


Sing Your Praises (How Great Thou Art)

by officiallykris



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Blasphemy kink, D/s themes, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Humiliation kink, M/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 08:43:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8571856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/officiallykris/pseuds/officiallykris
Summary: "Seungcheol will never forgive himself for taking so long to agree to do this with them."
Seungcheol finds something new to try and everyone responds a little more enthusiastically than he anticipated.





	

**Author's Note:**

> some warnings i suppose: heavy blasphemy kink, which turns more into a humiliation kink. srsly this is 6k words of porn, from start to finish. 3 boys 4 orgasms. someone gets real lucky. these boys are way too young to be getting up to the things they get up to in this fic. and i feel like jeonghan should get his own warning just for being jeonghan. he's pretty dominant here. while joshua is submissive, and i use his korean name because it's from seungcheol's pov. idk it just seemed to fit better. this was supposed to be a list and it turned into a novel, way to go kris.

“Fuck!”

 

Maybe that’s what prompted it, Seungcheol will think to himself later. Just that word, falling off his lips as his hand tangles in the short-cropped hair along the side of Jisoo's head, pushing his hips forward until his dick reaches back to the soft circle of Jisoo’s throat. 

 

Sprawled out along the hardwood floor beside Seungcheol’s feet, Jeonghan is laughing. His shoulders are pressed up against the mirror that lines the whole front wall of the room, and his eyes are crinkled in the corners, a derisive grin stretching his mouth wide. He watches them both, gaze flicking between Jisoo on his knees and Seungcheol standing over. Seungcheol wants to kick him, would if he had the coordination to do so without also choking Jisoo at the same time. (They do have  _ some  _ limits, especially where Jisoo is concerned. Or maybe  _ only  _ where Jisoo is concerned. It’s hard for Seungcheol to keep up sometimes.) 

 

It’s gotta be nearing midnight, though it’s just as light in the room right now as it would be if it were noon. They’ve occupied one of the basement dance studios, nondescript and hardly used for anything except late night practice for trainees. This one has been empty for weeks, following an accident attributed to its old flooring.The company keeps saying they’re going to get it fixed, but any effort to do so has yet to be seen. For now it’s only being used for… well.

 

Jisoo moans something high-pitched and unintelligible, and Seungcheol forces his eyes open and nearly comes on the spot. Jeonghan is leaning over now, mouth forming filthy syllables into the hollow below Jisoo’s ear. One of Jeonghan’s hands is pressed to Jisoo’s bare thigh, fingers tracing over skin turned red from how long he’s been kneeling on the ground. His other hand has reached up to the back of Jisoo’s neck, just holding him still, like he’s helping keep him steady for Seungcheol. Jisoo’s eyes are open now too, peering up through tear-clumped lashes, beautiful as the day Seungcheol met him, though now with a much more erotic aesthetic. Evidence of the amount of time he's spent with Jeonghan over the years.

 

Seungcheol will never forgive himself for taking so long to agree to do this with them.

 

He watches as Jeonghan trails a hand up Jisoo’s leg and towards his cock. Jisoo’s hard, swollen and red and curved up towards his own flat stomach, thick and gorgeous. Jisoo's clothes had come off almost immediately when they'd stumbled into the room, ripped from him almost violently between kisses and touches of Jeonghan's hands all over him. Seungcheol had peeled his own shirt off reluctantly, not wanting to miss even the second his eyes would be obscured as he pulled loose fabric up and over his head. It was the furthest he'd gotten before Jisoo was on him, pulling his sweats down just below his balls, just enough to get to Seungcheol's dick with a smooth descent to his knees. 

 

Jeonghan is the only one who’s left himself tucked in, as always. He likes to stay relatively covered while he watches them strip off layer after layer for him, ever the patient initiator. Seungcheol knows it has nothing to do with charity and everything to do with the fact that he likes fucking both of them when they’re boneless and pliant after they’ve already come. Likes having the power to make them come a second time--and a third on a few rare and unforgettable occasions.

 

Seungcheol is well on his way to that heavy, sated place now, racing towards it by shoving his hips forward again when he feels Jisoo’s throat open up at Jeonghan’s insistence. Now that he's looked he can't tear his eyes away, watching Jisoo's lips stretch around his cock, spit slipping from their corners and down his chin. It's a rare sight, Jisoo so sloppy, where he's usually so put together. But he gets like this with a dick in his mouth, hums appreciatively like getting Seungcheol off is getting  _ him  _ off. And Jeonghan is coaxing him through the motions, words urging him to keep going, take Seungcheol deeper-- _ yeah that’s it baby just like that fuck you’re so pretty like this _ . 

 

And then Jisoo is swallowing around the tip of his cock one more time, eyes screwing shut like it hurts, breath stuttering to a halt, and it’s so good, just what Seungcheol needs. In some primordial, masculine urge to mark what’s his, he pulls out to stripe Jisoo’s lips and waiting tongue white.

 

“Your fucking mouth,” he pants, leaving his hand resting against Jisoo’s head while he jerks himself through it all, watching Jisoo swallow just like he always does when one of them comes in his mouth. Seungcheol searches his mind for something to further express his gratitude but only comes up with, “Jesus Christ.”

 

That is apparently the wrong thing to say.

 

Jisoo pouts up at him like he’s personally offended and whines, “please stop cursing.”

 

Jeonghan scoffs, moving back now, away from where he was licking and sucking at the sharp angle of Jisoo's jaw, to look at him properly. His brows draw together in a frown that is as amused as it is bewildered. He’s as poised as always, even as Seungcheol is heavy and stupid with his orgasm and Jisoo looks so fucked out. “I can’t believe you’re saying that when you still have his jizz on your lips.”

 

Seungcheol thinks for a moment that that’s actually a pretty good argument, Jeonghan gets top-notches in postcoital logic-- _ precoital logic? is Seungcheol really the only one of them that's come already? _ \--but then Jisoo’s tongue is poking out between his lips and dragging along his mouth from one corner to the other, effectively collecting all said offending bodily fluids, and Seungcheol’s brain forgets logic exists altogether. It doesn't seem to matter that he's come already. That is just sinful.

 

Of course, in true Hong Jisoo fashion, he totally contradicts that with another innocent pout and tries again. “Please stop cursing?”

 

And Seungcheol will think, no, this is definitely what prompted it. Jisoo looking up at him with those earnest eyes of his, like he’s actually distressed by Seungcheol’s language. Like he couldn’t be bothered by any of the rest of this, but Seungcheol’s taking his precious Lord’s name in vain is just too much.

 

Seungcheol’s thumb chases the path Jisoo’s tongue made, rubbing against Jisoo’s mouth like he wants to smear what is already gone. He’s vaguely aware of Jeonghan laughing again, disbelief coloring his voice that little bit sarcastic it gets when it’s just the three of them alone. And Seungcheol maybe says what he says because he wants to be the one to surprise them for once, wants to trip them up like they do to him, day after day after fucking day.

 

“My good little Christian boy.”

 

The reaction he gets is visceral.

 

Jisoo gasps, mouth falling open, and Seungcheol swears he can almost see his pupils dilate even more. He looks lost for a moment, like he’s checked out, gone somewhere Seungcheol can’t follow, but he comes back to Seungcheol almost immediately, with something in his eyes that hadn't been there before. A determination he only gets when he’s working, when he’s been shut up in a soundproofed booth with Jihoon and his guitar for hours, when he’s on a stage or in front of a camera or even just staring at Seungcheol through a fogged mirror in a different studio after a nine hour dance practice.

 

Jeonghan is more physical in his response, and it’s a welcome reprieve from the intensity behind Jisoo’s eyes. He stands, moving much too smoothly for any man who had watched what he just watched and enjoyed it. Jeonghan’s hands are warm when they snake across Seungcheol’s chest, as he presses up behind Seungcheol to stare down over his shoulder. 

 

“Oh-ho, now we’re talking,” Jeonghan chuckles, mouth pressed against the side of Seungcheol’s neck. “I hope you can go again soon, because there’s no way he’s gonna let you walk out of here without fucking him now.”

 

Jisoo’s eyes flit over, catching Jeonghan’s and softening back to a tolerable gaze, open and needy like they had been before. And Seungcheol can feel Jeonghan’s smile against his skin, knows it’s wicked and sharp and beautiful. Everything about Jeonghan is beautiful, but there’s something special about the way he takes charge like this, drops that soft, angelic facade he allows the rest of the world to believe is real. Like this, he’s harder, stronger in the way he holds Jisoo down and Seungcheol up. And he knows more about both of them and what they want than Seungcheol and Jisoo have agreed he should. But fuck if it doesn’t work for them both.

 

“You like that,” he asks Jisoo over Seungcheol’s shoulder, “gonna take that mouth of yours and confess your sins while Seungcheollie works you open for me?”

 

Jisoo does like that, in fact, if his response is anything to go by. He whines again, high in his throat and completely shameless, the sound broken and ragged and Seungcheol already feels himself stir again because, fuck, he did that. He made Jisoo’s perfect voice all rough around the edges, messed it up the same way his hands messed up Jisoo’s perfect hair. There’s something to be said for good little Christian boys and that’s that they look so damn pretty all wrecked and panting on their knees.

 

“What d’you wanna confess, baby,” he hears himself say, his own voice far away, muffled by the rush of blood in his ears. If Jisoo has fallen into some kind of new headspace, then Seungcheol has ascended to one, feels confidence wash over him in waves that leave him brand new in their wake, “Tell me.”

 

The color high on Jisoo’s cheeks is getting darker by the second, until he’s flushed all the way down to his bare chest. Though whether from arousal or humiliation Seungcheol is sure he’ll never know. Maybe it’s a bit of both. Maybe one isn’t quite so disconnected from the other in Jisoo, especially now, after he’s been hard for so long and they just keep teasing him. 

 

“Shua,” Jeonghan says, voice firm even as it settles softly in the air between and around them. Jeonghan’s voice does that, seems to fill up the voids that their bodies can’t, so he’s there, everywhere, all the time. Now, he’s making sure they feel him, because what he’s saying is clearly an out if Jisoo needs it, the nickname coming out now when Jeonghan needs to know Jisoo is listening, paying attention. Jeonghan is giving Jisoo a choice here. 

 

“ _ If this is too much… _ ” he doesn’t say, but they don’t need him to, definitely don’t need him to finish, “ _...we can stop. _ ”

 

And this is probably what Seungcheol likes most about them, what had eventually gotten him to trust them enough to join them in this, the fact that when it comes down to it, when any one of them is stripped bare and laid out like Jisoo is, like he’s going to be until they finish with him, there’s nothing behind it but friendship and adoration and an undying faith in each other. If Seungcheol were a more self-assured man in general, he might even call it love.

 

Jisoo breathes and closes his eyes, and Seungcheol worries for a moment that he’s hiding. That is until he turns his head to brush his lips along the inside of Seungcheol’s wrist, the palm Seungcheol has left against his cheek. 

 

“I like it when you make me blow you in places where we might get caught,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, “I like knowing that someone could come in at any time, see me on my knees for you--for both of you.”

 

He looks up at them, but his eyes are glazed over, like he’s imagining this, going over the feelings he must have just had when Seungcheol was still fucking his mouth. And fuck, but Seungcheol knew Jisoo enjoyed it, liked the act of it just like most everyone else did, but there’s something in this confession, something that says what Jisoo feels is beyond a simple affinity. Something Seungcheol thinks doesn’t really have anything to do with the physical pleasure felt by either of them. 

 

Seungcheol’s resolve nearly breaks with Jisoo’s next words, “I like being slutty for you.”

 

“Shit,” Jeonghan breathes, voice unsteady like he’s forgotten himself, and Seungcheol wholeheartedly agrees-- _ shit _ . 

 

He hisses when Jeonghan reaches down and grabs at his dick, jerking him rough and quick as he presses his own erection against Seungcheol's ass through their sweats. The friction is just on the wrong side of painful, and he spits into his own palm and pushes Jeonghan off of him to take over. He’s a little distressed by the realization that it's not going to take very long at all for him to get hard again. But in the wake of Jisoo’s admission, with the weight of the words and all their implications, he thinks maybe he never stood a chance to remain impassive. Maybe he wouldn’t have taken that chance if it had been offered to him anyway.

 

Fuck, what have they  _ done  _ to him?

 

Jeonghan is moved but not deterred, slipping around Seungcheol to drop back down to the floor. He grips Jisoo’s chin and twists until Jisoo is forced to look at him. The kiss is predictably hard, more tongue and teeth than anything else. Jisoo gasps when Jeonghan bites at his bottom lip, not quite hard enough to break the skin, but still painful, still good--Seungcheol knows from experience. Seungcheol thinks he could probably watch them do this for hours and never get tired of it, has done so, actually, on multiple occasions. There's just something about them together like this, which is maybe a bit of a cliche, but Seungcheol could really care less about that when he's got permission to witness it firsthand. 

 

He makes himself look away, though, turns to where he thinks he might have tossed his bag by the door when they'd come in. They were supposed to be practicing, had told Soonyoung they would come keep him company while he worked on choreography for one of their B-side tracks, but had gotten distracted on the way from the dorm to the company building. Seungcheol feels a little bad about keeping Soonyoung waiting, but they hadn't been specific about a time. 

 

And besides, if he knew, Seungcheol doubts Soonyoung would do anything but smirk conspiratorily at them. Ever the little troublemaker. In fact, Seungcheol is fairly certain Soonyoung and Jihoon have snuck down to this very room themselves a few times since it’s been out of commission.

 

He’s also very sure he wants to stop thinking about that. He’d like to keep his erection now that it’s back, thanks.

 

He finds what's he's looking for in the little side pocket of his bag, the one he keeps deliberately empty most of the time, so no one will go poking around in it. The lube and string of condoms is left over from a week ago, when he'd come here alone under the pretense of wanting to use the gym. He'd actually gone to one of the recording rooms upstairs instead, where he knew Jisoo and Jeonghan were going over the vocals for the new album, without Jihoon to hover over them for once. The ambush had been successful and by the grateful look he'd gotten from Jeonghan afterward, when they were all piled together in a haphazard jumble of limbs in various stages of undress on the long couch in the sound room, it had also been appreciated.

 

When he makes it back to them, pants now discarded completely and supplies in hand, Jisoo is working Jeonghan's t-shirt off and then pulling at the waistband of his sweats. He's impatient now, and Seungcheol doesn't blame him, but upon a closer look, there's something different about him all of a sudden. 

 

It's that determination Seungcheol had seen earlier, now put into action, and it’s just as unsettling as before, just as out of place. Jisoo has always been submissive, but he isn't excessive in his compliance. He teases and fights back when goaded, gives as good as he takes. But he's never been quite as frantic as he seems right now. Desperation is a good look on him, when he's on his back on Seungcheol's bed at home, writhing and begging someone to fuck him. But this isn't that. This is frenzied, manic. This is fear.

 

Jeonghan senses that too, Seungcheol realizes when their eyes connect over Jisoo's shoulder, and like always he knows exactly what to do.

 

"Shua," he says, hands covering Jisoo's and pulling them away from his pants, pressing their foreheads together and speaking low enough Seungcheol can barely hear him, "Want you. So much. Not going anywhere, baby. We're right here."

 

It’s not often that Jisoo gets truly scared of something. Maybe a little insecure at times, but never out-and-out fearful. It hurts to watch him like this, to realize what Jeonghan is having to reaffirm for him. That he’s wanted. That he’s not alone. That he’s good for them even in the knowledge that he likes and wants something they might not have discussed before, that  _ they  _ might not like or want from him.

 

It isn’t lost on Seungcheol what this must mean for Jisoo, the fact that they’re taking something of his, something he holds very close to himself and never compromises on, and they’re making him use it against himself. And he’s willingly going along with it, putting himself out there, it’s just...

 

It’s just right now, what he doesn’t seem to realize is that it makes him all the more attractive for it, that the parts of himself he’s placing in their hands are just as cherished and precious to them as the rest of him.

 

Because if there’s anything Seungcheol and Jeonghan cherish most about Jisoo, it’s that sacrifice, it’s the risks he takes for them. He just needs to be reminded sometimes that those risks should be taken for  _ himself  _ too.

 

Seungcheol doesn’t know where it comes from, but he feels another surge of confidence run through him. For every step of the ladder Jisoo goes down, Seungcheol is determined to go up. Not to put distance between them, not to increase their separation, but to be able to see clearly how to bring them back together, how to lift Jisoo back up. 

 

To do that, he goes down to his knees, fits himself along Jisoo’s back, and wraps his arms around Jisoo’s waist. He drops the supplies into Jeonghan’s waiting hands, and he assumes Jeonghan deals with them but he doesn’t watch to make sure. Instead, he focuses entirely on the one in his arms, presses their skin together wherever he can and his lips to the side of Jisoo’s neck.

 

He speaks before he even really knows what he’s going to say, “Tell me more, baby. Tell me what else you like. I want to hear it. I want to hear everything.”

 

At first it isn’t clear that it’ll to work. There’s a moment of anticipation, and Jisoo is pressing back against him, breathing harsh, nails digging into Seungcheol’s arms where he’s grasping at them, but he doesn’t speak. Seungcheol looks up, catches Jeonghan’s eyes again. Jeonghan is staring back at him, but his expression is unreadable. Not closed off, just new, something Seungcheol doesn’t remember having to decipher before. And for a moment Seungcheol thinks again that he’s gotten this wrong, has let his newfound bravado get away from him.

 

Then Jisoo starts talking.

 

“I like--I like the way you finger me before you fuck me,” he says, breathless and barely audible, “I like it when you almost make me come, but then pull back, because you don’t want me to come until you’re inside me.”

 

He doesn’t even have to ask for Jeonghan to hand him the lube. The two of them work in tandem, that unrecognizable look on Jeonghan’s face replaced with a smirk Seungcheol has seen a lot, every time they work together, in this, in making it good for Jisoo, and in everything else if he’s honest. The lube is cold on his fingers when Jeonghan squeezes some onto them, but he doesn’t take time to warm it, simply spreads it over them until they’re more or less adequately covered and pushes his hand between him and Jisoo to rub down between Jisoo’s asscheeks and over his rim.

 

“Like this,” he asks, voice pitched low, a growling wreck of its usual tone, but he’s got Jisoo where he wants him now, pushes one of his fingers in almost rough, and is rewarded with a moan that he can feel more than hear with his lips still pressed up against Jisoo’s throat, “You want it like this, baby?”

 

“Yes,” Jisoo says, leaning forward until he’s supporting his own weight on his hands on the ground, he pushes back, fucks himself back on Seungcheol’s finger, and Seungcheol lets him, lets him take what he wants for a moment, “more, Seungch--”

 

Seungcheol’s name ends on a punched out, high-pitched whine when he does as Jisoo asks. He still isn’t being gentle, though he has a feeling gentle wouldn’t be very appreciated right now even if he wanted to give it. There will be time for that later, after he’s taken Jisoo apart, stripped him down to nothing but his bare desires. Fitting two fingers inside him is harder than one, and he can imagine it isn’t all pleasantries for Jisoo, knows what that stretch can feel like if it comes too soon. But Jisoo doesn’t seem to mind. He just keeps pushing his ass into Seungcheol’s hand, whimpering something incoherent when Jeonghan rubs at his shoulders.

 

“You’re so good for us, Shua,” Jeonghan says, and Seungcheol doesn’t know when Jeonghan relinquished control, when he handed it off, but he seems subdued somehow. Like he isn’t watching them perform for him, but like he’s waiting his turn.

 

Waiting for Seungcheol, deferring to him like he’s the one in control right now.

 

It’s a responsibility Seungcheol isn’t going to take lightly.

 

He scissors his fingers inside Jisoo and waits for the answering sound, a soft purring that Jisoo always lets out whenever they do this. It’s another thing he knows Jisoo likes, but that means a bit more now. And Seungcheol is starting to notice a theme here. A dick in Jisoo’s mouth, fingers in his ass. Jisoo just likes it when someone is inside of him.

 

Maybe as much as he seems to like being made to tell them that.

 

As if he’s able to hear Seungcheol’s thoughts--and maybe he is, Seungcheol would not count it impossible at this point--Jeonghan settles in front of Jisoo and cups his face, lifting it until their eyes are meeting in a vague imitation of before, and Jeonghan says, just as breathless, just as  _ affected _ , “keep talking.”

 

Jisoo sobs. But he also starts speaking again, just Jeonghan’s name at first, and it’s like a plea, like a prayer. The likeness is noted by Jeonghan’s smirk, by the spark in his eyes as he stares down at Jisoo. Seungcheol might be Jisoo’s priest, might be taking his confessions, but Jeonghan will always-- _ always _ \--be Jisoo’s God. In these moments, if nothing else.

 

And it makes Seungcheol reel, makes his thoughts fizzle out, his body moving on autopilot. He might have had control for that one second, Jeonghan might have let him take over, but he’s moving back into position again. Seungcheol allows it to happen, because it just solidifies what he already knows. This isn’t about him, this is about Jisoo. As it should be. As Seungcheol wants it to be. And he doubles his efforts, pushes his fingers in deep, and listens to Jisoo’s words spilling free from his lips now, aimless and stumbling but so damnably honest.

 

“I want--I need more--need you, need your cock in me, love it when you fuck me, when  _ both  _ of you fuck me, love feeling you after, love being sore and wet and  _ yours _ . God--shit, I need… Seungcheol please,  _ fuck me _ .”

 

It’s the first time he’s ever actually said it. In all the times they’ve done this, this is the first time Jisoo has begged so explicitly for it. And the sound of him spitting those filthy words, the sound of his voice breaking on them, it hits Seungcheol like a blow to the chest, knocks the wind clean out of him. His hand stutters on a violent insertion, and his fingers must hit Jisoo at a particularly good angle because the scream ripped from Jisoo’s throat is inhuman. It could have also been a bad angle, could have been painful, but Seungcheol thinks it probably wasn’t, not by how Jisoo whines when his fingers slip free, how he pushes back, instinctively searching for more.

 

Seungcheol’s hands shake when he reaches down to grab the lube again, as he tears one condom off the string and tears the packaging off in turn. They shake as he rolls it on, his cock so painfully hard now-- _ again _ \--and as he pours lubricant over himself, as he smooths it out so it covers him completely. They’re still shaking when he wraps one around his dick and the other around Jisoo’s hip, lining himself up and pushing in, slowly.

 

And Jisoo opens around him so beautifully, his ass so hot and wet and tight. It amazes Seungcheol every time he fucks Jisoo how tight he always is, thinks for sure it shouldn’t still feel this good. But it does, it feels so fucking good, as good as the first time, and every time after that. Seungcheol has to take a moment to steel himself against it, trying to keep from just fucking in like he had with his fingers, because he wants to last a little longer than the whole minute he thinks he might if he let himself go any harder than this.

 

But Jisoo is having none of it, is leaning all his weight on one hand so he can reach back with the other and pull Seungcheol into him by the hip. For how skinny he is, Jisoo is strong. In a second, Seungcheol is buried, until his hips are digging almost painfully into the roundness of Jisoo’s ass, until he’s balls deep and his vision blurs. He groans, squeezing his eyes shut, and bending over the body under his. Jisoo is trembling a little, probably still adjusting, but he’s pushing back against Seungcheol in every place they touch, showing instead of telling how much he wants this.

 

So Seungcheol gives it to him. The rhythm starts as quick-paced and hard as it can, as Seungcheol’s own trembling muscles can produce. He’s suddenly overheated, sweat beading along his hairline and dripping down his jaw, skin itching and red, blood pumping quicker and quicker through his veins. Jisoo is hot too, his hips under Seungcheol’s palms, his back against Seungcheol’s chest slick with his own perspiration. They smell like sex, the whole room does, permeated with that thick, heady scent that Seungcheol thinks will likely choke him out if he doesn’t fall unconscious from the sheer want coursing through him. Jisoo feels like a dream, and his moan, when it reaches Seungcheol’s ears is long and desperate and distinctly muffled.

 

It’s because he’s got his mouth full, Seungcheol notes when he can finally remember how to open his eyes again. Jisoo has his mouth full of Jeonghan’s dick, is nearly choking on it if the fingers tight in his hair are any indication, just how far he seems to have taken Jeonghan in. Jeonghan isn’t being gentle either, has moved past his earlier soft coaxing. He’s only slightly mimicking Seungcheol’s earlier position, sitting instead of standing, decidedly more naked, pulling Jisoo down to his lap instead of keeping him up on his knees. It bends Jisoo’s body at an almost painful-looking angle, sort of like how he is when he’s got his hands tied behind him and his chest is pressed down against Seungcheol’s mattress back home, which is undoubtedly Jeonghan’s intention, reminding them all. 

 

But there are little differences, too. Jisoo’s still got his arms under him, down on his elbows with his hands resting on either side of Jeonghan’s legs spread around them. And it’s almost like he’s the one coaxing now, like he’s charmed his way between Jeonghan’s milky white thighs. But the possibility for Jisoo’s sudden flip is belied in the way Jeonghan is keeping Jisoo’s head pressed down, keeping his cock so far back into Jisoo’s throat he’s actually physically gagging. And it should be worrying, should go against every instinct the two of them share over Jisoo’s safety, but there’s no denying how much Jisoo is enjoying it. 

 

Even if his earlier words had never been uttered, their truths would be present in the reactions his body is giving now. In how he shudders from head to toe, how his skin breaks out in little bumps that should be contradicting with how hot his skin is, how he just keeps rutting his hips back against Seungcheol’s, meeting every thrust with equal if not more enthusiasm. In how, no matter how choked off his sounds are by the dick in his throat, he still makes them, over and over, until the room is filled with them.

 

That primal part of Seungcheol from before, the one that had him claiming Jisoo with the come he splashed on his lips, is what has Seungcheol bending forward now, as far as he can, until his chest is flush with Jisoo’s back again and his lips press against the top of Jisoo’s spine. It’s what has him gripping Jisoo’s hips until they’re forced to pause in their motions, until the only movement Jisoo can make is the swallowing around the tip of Jeonghan’s cock. It’s what has him speaking, what has his voice coming out low but commanding, cutting through Jisoo’s whimpers, quieting everything so he can be heard.

 

“Just can’t get enough, can you, baby,” he says, “need us so badly, right? You gonna come now that you have us both in you? You gonna pretend you’re still a good little Christian boy now?” 

 

The reaction is expected this time, but it’s no less palpable for the fact. This time, Jisoo is the physical one, his whole body stiffening on a shudder so violent Seungcheol feels it from inside him. It rips a moan from Seungcheol’s lips and his hips move again of their own accord, rocking forward, thrusting in, and it’s just the right angle to tear another sound from Jisoo’s throat, to send his body off in another wave of shudders, and Seungcheol feels him come like a taut bowstring finally released, his body shaking its way through the break in its tension.

 

It sparks off a chain reaction, Seungcheol’s own orgasm coming on the tail end of Jisoo’s aftershocks, and he fucks himself through it, revels in the sounds he can still hear coming from beneath him. It’s not as full this time around, but he’s somehow more satisfied from it, like it’s better knowing he isn’t the only one getting off.

 

And then Jeonghan is hissing, “fucking-- _ Christ _ \--” and he’s coming too, hand holding Jisoo’s head still while he spills down Jisoo’s throat, marking him in a similar but fundamentally different way than Seungcheol had. 

 

It takes a moment, but Jeonghan finally relinquishes his hold on Jisoo’s hair, and Seungcheol uses that distraction to pull out of Jisoo at the same time. It works, Jisoo too occupied with rubbing at his scalp to do much more than wince as Seungcheol slips free of him. Seungcheol doesn’t say anything about the way Jisoo’s hole is slick and gaping, but he lets himself take a moment to look and feel doubly satisfied.

 

Jisoo ruins the moment again, when he sits back on his heels and says, whine evident once more, “what did I say about cursing?”

 

It’s Jeonghan’s turn to be shocked silent, and Seungcheol just laughs, standing up on legs that are dripping sweat and shaking, disposing of the condom in the basket by the door. He’ll have to take the bag up to the dumpster when they leave later, maybe after they spend some time with Soonyoung in choreography, or maybe after a nap.

 

A nap sounds much better, and he turns back to the other two to suggest just that only to find them locked in a sweet, oddly chaste kiss. It feels disproportionately soft after what just happened, the fact that they’re all still very naked and covered in sweat and Jisoo’s mouth probably tastes like both of his and Jeonghan’s come testament to that fact. But a part of Seungcheol can only be relieved at the sight. They’re going to have to talk about it, what happened, what it was that made things so potent tonight, so different. But that could probably wait a little while, as long as they’re all still unscathed enough to still want to kiss each other. Seungcheol definitely still wants to kiss them both.

 

And Seungcheol thinks, as he rejoins them on the ground, pulls Jisoo back into his lap and fits his lips against the side of Jeonghan’s neck, it doesn’t much matter what prompted this after all. What matters is that he understands them, and himself, so much better now than he did before.

 

\--

 

"So, that was really fucking hot,” Jeonghan says, right as Seungcheol is about to fall into a sleep far too deep for someone who is lying on a hardwood floor.

 

In his delirium, he chuckles and says, "Yeah? Next time I'll choke you with Jisoo's rosary."

 

Jeonghan makes a decidedly pleased sound at that, but Jisoo lifts his head from Seungcheol’s chest and looks at them both, bewilderment taking precedence over any annoyance he would usually feel over being talked about like he and his things aren’t in the room.

 

"I don't have a rosary. Rosaries are for catholics."

 

Jeonghan scoffs, and the look he sends across from where he is lying on Seungcheol’s other side is unyielding as much as it is amused, "So is confession, but you had no issues with that, did you?"

 

Jisoo's cheeks redden and he buries his face in Seungcheol's neck to hide it. Seungcheol expects it, and he laughs. But he has to be sure, so he slides his fingers into Jisoo's hair to tug his head back up. 

 

"Hey," he says, voice gentle like the one Jeonghan uses when he needs to know if they're alright with whatever it is he's got planned for them that night, and is rewarded with Jisoo's open if slightly wary gaze, "was that--Are you okay? Was that okay?"

 

_ Did I go too far? Push too much? _

 

Jisoo just leans into his hand, eyes closing for a moment, small smile spelling out the bliss he feels at the comfort even when he’s obviously trying to remind himself how longsuffering he is and how exhausting it is to be in a relationship with Seungcheol and Jeonghan. Seungcheol likes to think Jeonghan makes up most of what makes them exhausting.

 

“It was perfect,” Jisoo says, eyes opening again and looking right back into Seungcheol’s, not hiding. And Seungcheol takes that for the time being as the most and the best he’s going to get, letting Jisoo lay his head back down. He smiles at Jeonghan when their eyes meet again, kissing back immediately when Jeonghan presses their lips together.

 

He’s just lying back down, closing his eyes, when he hears Jisoo’s voice again.

 

“But the next time either of you get another idea like this, can it please be in a room that has a damn bed in it?”

**Author's Note:**

> jeonghan is an angel. but then, so was lucifer.  
> thx for reading. comments are appreciated. i'll try to remember to reply to them this time, since i'm kind of dying to talk to someone about these stupid boys anyway. i'm gonna go vaguely apologize to my mother for being a disappointment now.


End file.
